


Break away

by Dominatrix



Series: 120 Raindrops on the window [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Romance, Sherlolly - Freeform, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/Dominatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Molly kisses Sherlock because she just can't go on like this any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break away

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just say I watched "The Empty Hearse" and my Sherlolly feels were fueled. A lot. Like a bush fire.  
> I hope you enjoy :)

Sometimes it had been enough to imagine how it would be to touch him. There were incidents when she was close, so close, while he leaned over a corpse, focusing on the bruises that had evolved post-mortem, and she was so close to him that she forgot to breathe. Clear thoughts weren’t an option in these moments. How could they be.

How could she think when she was so close to Sherlock Holmes that she would only need to stretch out her hand to check whether his cheekbones were really as sharp-cut as they looked, if he was one of the people who liked having fingers run through his hair…It just wasn’t possible. Every time she fell, deeper and deeper, always further into these thoughts. In the beginning she would have been able to catch herself. By now it was too late for this. She had missed the jump, and now she was head over heels in love with a man who only was friendly to her when he needed something.

Almost always it had been enough that he pretended something. That he didn’t really mean what he was saying, whether it was about her intelligence or the way she wore her hair. He knew exactly what she wanted to hear, what she longed for, why she was insecure. He gave her security with these little moments, showing her attention, at least for a little, tiny second, until she remembered that she just used her, and she crashed deeper, still deeper.

Often it had been enough to just look at him. To watch him from afar, how he bowed over the microscope, the slim, long fingers completely motionless on the wheels as he adjusted the picture, made it sharper. Often she had wished for him being so careful with her as he was with the instruments. Always the scientist he treated them with respect, almost admiration. Not like he treated her. She was the one he ignored, he probably only noticed her because she breathed away his oxygen. It seemed impossible that they really shared the same air, wandered the same earth.

But sometimes it just wasn’t enough. It was an average day, with average corpses. Like always Molly was tense when Sherlock was in the same room as she was. He hadn’t brought John. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. On the one hand John kept Sherlock from being too cruel to Molly. On the other hand John kept Sherlock from being too cruel to Molly. It wasn’t a good character trait that she almost longed to be rejected from him, because it meant that he had at least thought about her, that he had _noticed_ her.

One moment she was almost completely silent, disinfecting scalpels at the big, cold steel table, watching Sherlock out of the corners of her eyes, sitting beside her, eyes fixed on the test tube holder, barely two meters away from her, or maybe world. Maybe both.

But the next moment she couldn’t do anything about it. All the tension that had built up inside of her in the last months, since she had seen him the very first time, it exploded in her head and made her do something really thoughtless. With a sudden movement she dropped all instruments, which dropped on the metal plate with a low jingling protest, before she was at Sherlock’s side with few long strides.

Of course he knew she was up to something. The muscles underneath his purple shirt had tensed, and Molly wanted nothing more than let her fingertips drag over his shoulder and down his spine.

And then she did it. The touch only lasted a splinter second before Sherlock jolted up, as if he had been given an electroshock. Finally – finally – he looked at her, with a puzzled expression in his eyes. For a moment Molly was sad because he looked so innocent, so scared, because no one ever touched him this way. Then, without wasting another thought about the consequences, she kissed him.

Her left hand cupped his cheek, and she felt the prominent bone structure distinctively under her skin, while her other fisted the fabric of his shirt, still resting on his shoulder. She kissed him like the world would end tomorrow, like this would be the only possibility to ever kiss him. And it really was. Almost desperate she pressed her lips against his and wondered whether he would notice which lip balm she had applied this morning, and if he thought at all, if he was disgusted by her now.

She broke off to fast to give him a chance to react. Maybe he would have woken from his stupor if she had run her fingers through his hair. Maybe he would have replied the kiss if he would have known what to do in such a situation. Maybe he would not have ever let her go again if she would have just waited a few seconds more.

But she didn’t. She had waited for so long, and these deciding seconds suddenly were more than she could ever endure. She whirled around, her cheeks flaming with heat and shame, still the feeling of Sherlock’s lips on hers in her mind, and fled through the door.

He didn’t come after her. Of course not. He was Sherlock Holmes. What had she even expected.

He didn’t come after her. Instead he stared at the door Molly had disappeared through, the first one to ever kiss him, and wondered if it was usual to feel so shivering and dizzy after a kiss.


End file.
